


put your head on my shoulders

by AUTOPH4GY



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Fluff, High School, Im Projecting, M/M, Not Beta Read, Slow Dancing, Swearing, Yearning, being in high school actually has nothing 2 do with the fic they're just like 17, but im just gay and want a boyfriend rlly bad, lowkey ooc but id like to think im doing gods work, underaged drinking, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26022574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AUTOPH4GY/pseuds/AUTOPH4GY
Summary: Butters and Kenny (slightly tipsy) slow dance in the kitchen to old music/remember when "put ur head on my shoulder" went viral on tiktok? yea ❤️ that was months ago but ❤️ hey. its 2 am nd im fucking YEARNING bitch
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	put your head on my shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> i like 2 listen to 50's music and yearn. also sorry this is very unprofessional i havent written in months but please accept it

The soft radio rang throughout the kitchen, shitty music from the 50's burned onto a CD Kenny had made for his one and only, Butters. Iconic, one hit wonder, sappy love songs from artists who's rest of their careers' were lost in time. They were peak heterosexual, but hey, when gays weren't accepted one just has to make due with what they have.

And make do they did. Because when half a bottle of vodka is downed by stupid teenagers, their brains start to not pick up on that heterosexual bullshit. Selective hearing, Kenny had called it when he put in the CD.

Now a few too many shots in, they sat a little woozy at the table, simply vibing. Kenny resting his head on one of his hands, staring blissfully at the boy he could call his. While Butters was a little spaced out, the worry he had hours ago about his parents finding out having disappeared.

There was a slight pause in the music as the CD spun.

 _Yikes..._ Kenny thought, the machine wiring and he was afraid the scratches on the disk may make the rest of it unplayable, but soon enough the next song kicked in. The swaying beat of one of Kenny's personal favourites kicked in. He stood up from the table, being dramatic as he bowed a bit and extended his hand towards Butters. Butters snapped out of his little dream world, shaking his head to clear his mind but everything seemed to lag like a Windows 95 desktop.

"Wha-What are you doing?" he asked.

"This dance, may I have the honour of sharing it with you?" Kenny was being far over dramatic, but in his head he was being romantic as FUCK. Well as romantic as you can get as a drunken seventeen year old.

Butters picked up on the cue to Kenny's childish little game and smiled. Utterly charming to the second equally drunken seventeen year old. His heart swayed by the fantastic tunes and dorkiness of his boyfriend. Truly teen romance at it's peak.

Taking Kenny's hand, Butters was pulled into his arms immediately.

"Do you know how to slow dance?" Kenny asked.

"No, not really," he admitted a bit shy.

"Alright follow my lead. My hand on your hip, yours around my neck and these two together like we're holding hands," Kenny situated the both of them, "Now, just follow my lead."

Butters gulped, nervous as he stared down at their feet. The title in his kitchen seemed a lot more interesting than it ever had before. That being code word for he couldn't bring himself to look Kenny in the eyes. He could hear Kenny softly counting "1... 2... 3..." as he stepped effortlessly around in a simple waltz to the beat. Butters tried his best to follow but alcohol and the fact he's never waltzed with anyone ever prevented him from doing so.

 _"Show me... that you love me too,"_ the lyrics filled the house.

"Oh, Kenny, I'm not very good at this," Butters frowned, speaking over the music.

"You're doing fine, look up at me," Kenny took his hand from Butters waist and used it to tilt his head up to look at him, "Don't over think. Step out, step together, step out aaand together."

Butters flushed, how embarrassing it was to be so close while he was doing so poorly at a simple task. Perhaps he'd just blame it on the alcohol... ooo he was Not supposed to have alcohol. A whole new set of worries was about to set in but Kenny spoke again.

"Just focus on me, you're getting the hang of the steps."

And Kenny was right, a few more turns and Butters had it. It _was_ easy! He found himself fluidly able to mimick the waltz, becoming lighter in his steps and more confident. He no longer needed to stare down at his feet and instead focused on his boyfriend's stupidly cute smile and the shine in his pretty blue eyes. The freckles dotted across Kenny's cheeks and bridge of his nose, Butters adored those too, recalling times he spent counting them or connecting them into make believe constellations.

"You're very pretty," Butters breathed out softly.

"Why, thank you," Kenny brought back the esteemed prince act, "You're very pretty as well."

Continuing into playing his little prince act, Kenny slowly started to spin Butters out as the song was nearing its close. But instead surprised Butters knew enough to go along with it and let Kenny dip him into a kiss. And with the final notes playing in the back ground Kenny held his love near, pulling away to be sappy and lovingly take in the wonderful boy he got to call his.

Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was the fact he was seventeen with very minimal romantic experience, or maybe it was because it was truly romantic, but Butters thought that was just the sweetest moment of his life.

-

"There's definitely faggotry going on in there," Cartman remarked as him, Stan, and Kyle walked past the house.

They were going to stop over and ask if the two wanted to sleep over or do something stupid due to Butters lack of parental supervision, but that didn't seem like it was going to work out anymore as the music could be heard from the outside, and the silhouettes of two boys waltzing in the kitchen was visible in the windows.

"Shut up, fatboy," Kyle retorted, "It's not like you haven't done faggy shit yourself."

"That's different, Kyle."

"How."

"I'm simply built different. It doesn't apply to me."

"Why you-"

"Hey, don't argue, let's just go back to my place and get back to playing video games," Stan butted in before they could continue. 


End file.
